


There Is Another World

by lesrouges



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Memories, SPOILERS!!!!, m for mentions of blood, this is so sad im so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 22:10:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19049440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesrouges/pseuds/lesrouges
Summary: His biggest regret was a beautiful boy with dark curls and eyes of steel.





	There Is Another World

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! so this is my first time writing fanfiction in a looong time but i had just recently refinished p5 and their relationship hit me harder a second time and so i was compelled to write this. pls go easy on me 
> 
> the whole time writing this i was listening to [asleep by the smiths](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5mF4pKSi2SU), the title also comes from there !

Akechi Goro lies on his back in a pool of his own blood, a ray gun discarded just inches within his extended arm, his other arm is clutching the wound just below his right ribcage. A few feet away from him, there is a body that looks suspiciously just like him except this one is face down and dead, the pool of blood surrounding him is already starting to get thick, a testament to how just how much time Akechi has been laying, dying, on the floor of the steamroom of a boat that doesn’t actually exist.

Akechi knows he is dying. He knows in how every breath is getting harder, in how his limbs are going numb with the blood loss. Even though he is dying, Akechi lets out a gargled laugh. Of course this would be how he dies, alone, and on a dirty floor nonetheless, his own failure mocking him. Even in the end, despite all of his efforts to be smart, to be useful, Akechi couldn’t best anyone, not even Shido’s pathetic cognitive version of himself.

Akechi knows he is dying, he also knows there is nothing he can do about it now.

He lets his hands fall from their spot of putting pressure on his open wound, he lets his head fall back onto the floor. As he struggles to keep his eyes open, he lets himself feel regret, genuine regret, for the first time since embarking on his quest for revenge. While it shames him to admit, it wasn’t the first murder that he committed under Shido that shamed him the most, or the countless that followed. It wasn’t the lying, the deceiving, the manipulating the mass public just to forward his own and very personal agenda.

His biggest regret was a beautiful boy with dark curls and eyes of steel.

For the first time, Akechi admits to himself that Akira meant something, _everything_ , to him. Akira, the boy who spoke his intentions with confidence, who didn’t live behind masks and lies. Akira, the boy who memorized Akechi’s favorite order, a hot cup of coffee with just a splash of milk and a sprinkle of cinnamon. Akira, the boy who would stand behind the counter at Leblanc and ask Akechi what he was reading, how was his day, what was his opinion on the Phantom Thieves today.

Akechi lets himself think about how pretty Akira was with an apron tied around his waist, a dish towel thrown over his shoulder, his head bowed and eyes focused behind glasses as he gave his complete attention to trying to make a cup of coffee as good as Sakura-san. He thinks about how the skin high on Akira’s cheekbones would flush the tiniest bit when he would notice Akechi stealing glances over the rim of his coffee cup.

He thinks about the first time that they kissed. It was a chilly October night, shortly after Akechi had just blackmailed the entire lot of them. He should have been happy that his plan was proceeding as planned, but now every time he thought about what he would have to do, every time his phone showed Shido’s number, his stomach dropped. He would push the feelings away, he would say that this was a necessary step in his plan, that it would all be worth it in the end. He wrote his habit of going to Leblanc as comfort, nothing more than a good atmosphere and even better coffee, telling himself that it had nothing to do with Akira. It had nothing to do with the way it seemed he couldn’t stop thinking about him, about the warm feeling he got in his chest every time Akira told him that he enjoyed seeing Akechi at the café, about how his heart seemed to stop when Akira’s fingers would brush his when handing him his cup of coffee. Absolutely nothing at all.

Akechi had walked in just as Sakura-san was walking out, telling Akira to close the café on his own. The night had proceeded rather uneventfully, with Akechi actually invested in his case files and Akira busy cleaning the equipment behind the counter. It wasn’t until Akechi declared that he was leaving that Akira insisted he walked him to the station.

“It’s late, you never know what thieves lurk in the night,” Akira had stated, a lopsided grin on his face.

The city was surprisingly quiet on the walk to the station, little pedestrians walking alongside of them and the roar traffic and trains and people’s conversations low. Akira told him jokes and Akechi could feel rare, genuine smiles on his face as he smiled at Akira’s words. Walking side by side, Akechi felt each time Akira’s hands brushed against his. He felt his face flush and his hands getting hotter under his gloves. However, it wasn’t until they got to the station that Akira suddenly turned serious.

“Akechi, now that we are teammates, I want you to know that I trust you. I don’t want there to be any secrets between us,” Akira said it with a sincerity that made Akechi think he was talking about something deeper.

“I’m not quite sure I understand what you’re getting at Kurusu-kun,” Akechi stated, his heart quickening at both Akira stepping closer and the idea that Akira sees behind his mask, that there is a deeper meaning to Akechi befriending the Phantom Thieves.

“Please, call me Akira,” Akira said with a gentle smile.

Akechi immediately flushes at Akira mentioning he calls him by his given name, the intimacy of it and the closeness of it all starting to suffocate him. Slipping his mask back into place, Akechi flows easily into his rehearsed lie. “Well, _Akira_ , I’m still not sure I understand. I have already told you my intentions of joining the Phantom Thieves.”

Akira’s smile widened as he stepped even closer, now mere inches away from Akechi. As Akechi was wondering when Akira’s face got this close to his, Akira’s hand traveled up to his hair, slowly, allowing Akechi to push it away at any moment if he wanted to.  

“That’s not what I meant. I meant that I didn’t want to hide how I feel any longer.” With that statement, Akira leaned in, gently pressing his lips to Akechi’s. The kiss lasts longer than expected, with Akira’s hand now fully in Akechi’s hair, pulling him closer as Akechi relaxes and softens into the kiss, his hands on Akira’s shoulders.

For the first time that year, Akechi felt more human than fake.

Akechi’s thoughts begin to blur, time suddenly becoming disoriented. He thinks about the whirlwind of November nights spent in the attic above Leblanc, the space heater turned on because Akira stated that he can’t stand the cold. He thinks about the nights they spent doing nothing at all, mindless chatter between the two of them as they sat on the sofa or laid out on the bed. Akechi telling Akira that he needed to return the week-old videos he had rented, Akira stating that they were already late so he might as well keep them until he finishes them all. He thinks about the nights they spent doing everything, from hands and tongues and teeth roaming open skin, all sharp grins and heavy breaths. He thinks of the nights full of warmth, of Akira holding him close, stroking his hair until Akechi was helpless and pliant in his arms.

It was easier then, in Akira’s arms, for Akechi to think he had a choice to not proceed with the plan.

Some of his fondest memories of Akira was not of Akira at all, but of Joker. Clad in all black, his commanding voice and unavoidable presence, Akechi was both in awe and sickened at the sight of him. He watched him bring shadows to their knees, watched power exuberate form him whether it was from a flick of his knife or the removal of his mask. He thought of how he led the others, how they too seemed to be in awe of him.

He thought about the passion Akira had, not just for himself but for others. How he tirelessly fought and bled and worked for the hurt, the weak, the innocent. He thought about how Akira made it seem so easy to be good. It made Akechi sick. It made Akechi want to surrender, to forget Shido and his plan. He thought about how if he confessed all he has done to Akira, even he would tell him that he is too far gone for redemption.

Akechi knows he is dying, he also knows that there is nothing he can do about it now.

As he takes his final breaths, he thinks about his biggest regret. A beautiful boy with dark curls and eyes of steel. As he takes his final breaths, he thinks about what-ifs. Maybe if they had met sooner, maybe in another life, they could have been more than what they were. Maybe in that life, Akechi would have been capable of loving Akira the way he deserved. Maybe he would have been able to accept the love that Akira gave him.

But those are not his life, those realities are not the one he is in now. As he lay there dying, Akechi is grateful for all the times that he got to see Akira, really see him. He is grateful for all the time he spent in his arms, for all the time Akira spent in his.

He is grateful for the closest thing to love he got in this lifetime.

As he takes his final breath, Akechi thinks of his beautiful boy and gives a hoarse whisper, “Thank you.”

He dies with his eyes closed, a small but peaceful smile on his pale lips.

-

Kurusu Akira was too late. Sunken on his knees, he cradled the body of his lover in his arms, rocking him back and forth as he cries and cries. He thinks of his beautiful boy with soft brown hair and pretty eyes. He thinks of all the memories they shared. He thinks of how it seems that the were connected by something bigger than them.

Wiping the hair from his eyes, careful to not get any more blood on the face in his hands, Akira bends over and gave Akechi Goro a kiss on his forehead.  

“Thank you,” he whispers.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! kudos n comments are greatly appreciated


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